The Paper Flower Maker
by lexerz22
Summary: After Regina attempts to kill herself, she is taken to a psychiatric hospital to get help, where she meets Emma - someone who reminds her of a fleeting memory of another. With the help of Dr. Whale and Emma, will Regina be able to conquer her past and the demons that roam inside her? Better yet what's real and what is just a figment of her imagination? (Regina-20 yrs old & Emma-21)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Trigger warning for suicide and cutting, not too graphic.**

 **Chapter One**

 **February 12, 1986:**

She is a compulsive paper flower maker. Every day I can't help but watch her from two seats over. We sit at the back of the room, and I don't think anyone else has studied her quite like me. She's spent every day tearing out old scratch paper to meticulously fold and shape until it matches the others.

And at the end of class, after she's created around six or seven, she will slide them off the desk to land in the opening of her backpack.

She could probably bury herself six-foot under.

 **February 13, 1986:**

Things don't feel the same today for some reason. She's not folding paper but instead staring out the window. Being in the middle of winter, it's actually warm for a chance, but she's still wearing a sweater.

It takes all but five seconds to realize the teacher is calling my name, and a set of emerald orbs lock onto mine. It's the first I've ever seen them directed towards me. She notices me watching and she shifts almost unconsciously – in the process – shoving her sleeves up revealing a line of several slits. Some white and some more red with jagged lines.

I know she's seen my line of vision.

 **February 14, 1986** :

It's Valentine's Day, which means another year of plastering on a smile while being alone once more. To make it worse the seat is empty two spots over.

Oh well, so far I've gotten a box of chocolates from my ma and pa and a simplistic card from my one true friend.

 **February 15, 1986:**

Even though it's early Saturday, my ma comes barging through the door with a package held straight out to me. On it written in jet black ink is 'Sorry I'm a day late and among other things.'

I don't recognize the handwriting and there's no return address. It's a big box about the size of a milk crate, but it couldn't weigh more than one pound.

I open it to reveal hundreds of folded flowers. I'm about to cry when my ma interrupts to say something about me having an admirer.

Later that night when no one is hovering around, I bring the box out from under my bed where I stashed it from prying eyes.

I begin counting the flowers. Amongst the flowers there is one random butterfly. I'm close to the bottom when I notice a shiny gold box and a card that reads:

 _'Maybe we will get a chance in the next life.'_

I frantically begin digging through the box for another note but it turns up empty.

After I've had time to calm down, I reach to unlatch the gold box and turn the dial. A guitar starts playing and I immediately recognize the song to be 'Sleepwalk' by Santo & Johnny.

It's not until hours of listening do I finally drift to sleep.

 **February 17, 1986:**

She killed herself…

 **AN: So this is a very personal story to me that I've been working on for several years. It was originally meant for original characters, but I thought Emma and Regina would fit in nice as the characters. It's more suspenseful than anything, but there of course will be romance. And of course it is completely AU.**

 **Side note: It is not set in first person, or written as diary entries for the rest of the chapters - this is just how the first chapter begins begins.**

 **Please prepare for confusion because that's my game until it wraps up nicely in the end. Thank you for reading! R &R**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Did I mention that this will be kind of a slowburn.**

 **Chapter Two:**

At the stop previous to hers, a young couple in their mid-twenties boards the train and seats themselves diagonal to her.

They prop themselves against each other, limbs tangling and fingers intertwining; her curly, chestnut hair mixing with his fire red.

They don't part from one another's gaze long enough to see the landscape whirling past as the train once again gradually regains its former speed, to see all the unfamiliar faces going about their tedious lives, or to see the old, haggard woman eyeing them with scrutiny.

There's much detail and length one could express on what the two might be missing. It could even be worded very cliché.

The sun was just setting across the countryside horizon. The bright reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges taking a dance with the dark side of blues and purples. Birds taking off in flight at the noise of the locomotive, casting a barely there 'm' shadow amongst the grass swaying in the breeze.

Hell, there could probably be something as absurd and implausible as a UFO landing right out in the meadow, and one of the aliens is milking a cow.

However insane, they still wouldn't have noticed. Their shy smiles, hooded eyelids, and lingering touches were enduring. They were inspiring.

Several decades back, back when the older lady was not so old herself, she would have thought them odd and to be frank, a bit obnoxious.

But she's experienced those same feelings of utter turmoil of what felt more like stampeding horses rather than the old saying of butterflies in one's stomach.

All that they are missing out on is miniscule compared to looking in your lover's eyes. Now how about that for cliché.

The old woman chuckles silently to herself, bringing her out of her thoughts. For a second she glances over to make sure they had not heard her, but then she would have been completely ignoring what this whole inner dialogue has been about.

The train screeches to a stop, greeting the woman with her destination. She can't tell you exactly where she is or where she is even headed to because that would require knowing.

One thing is for certain, she is somewhere in the countryside of Europe. That is the whole point of this vacation, traveling the unknown, venturing off into the realm of spontaneity.

This is her final destination of the trip.

She grabs her one small, rugged suitcase from the overhead with her pencil and notepad tucked safely under an arm, and she steps out onto the concrete platform.

Although it's summer, the sun beaming down on her wrinkled face fails in comparison to back in the States.

A light breeze causes her to tighten her blue headscarf that is beginning to slip away from the brim of her forehead, and with it, she catches a faint scent of the flowery perfume. The one she thought she lost years ago.

The memories flood back momentously causing a prickling sensation to reverberate across her skin and engorge her senses.

An image of the sea emerald eyes that contrast the light blonde hair and the pale face with faint freckles scattered sporadically, such as the stars against the backdrop of the night sky, flashes against her eyelids. Then there's those soft pink lips eliciting a playful smirk.

The woman must have dazed off into a trance – nothing out of the norm – because a young fire red haired boy is nudging her shoulder, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

He bends over picking up a notepad and pencil from where they've fallen. Curious eyes seek the older lady's before he hands back the opened notepad.

"Why yes, thank you, kind sir."

"It's a lovely drawing."

He offers a genuine smile before turning away to retreat back to a brunette who had been studying the exchange with amber eyes.

The woman is left with the opened notepad of the drawing of the couple on the train.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

A taxi pulls up outside of the station, allowing the woman to ease into the backseat.

"Where to ma'am?"

On the way to the cottage she had rented for the week, she allows herself to drift back into the previous recollection of that beautiful face. Around fifteen minutes into the ride a familiar song begins to play on the radio.

It had been _their_ song and before that _her_ song.

The song she had cried to every night. That must have been close to thirty years ago.

It had been that fateful night that had changed everything. It led the woman to her destiny.

A tear rolls down a cheek that is swiftly and discreetly swiped away. Even at the ripe old of 52 she could still discreetly hear her ma's voice: 'Don't show signs of weakness!' snapping at her like her ma was right in the taxi with them.

"Hey, you know this song?

Man this is a great song."

His gruff voice is the last thing the woman hears when bright lights and metal scrapping collude with one another jerking her into a fitful oblivion.

Then there is another noise, much resembling someone else speaking. The voice is not yet recognizable.

It feels as if there is a gray fog clouding her brain. All she can see is a white light shining off in the distance. Then the same voice pierces through her eardrums like a sharp needle pounding into her skull. This time it's audible and distinctly familiar.

"Please save my baby girl!"

It belongs to her ma. It's hard to understand why she is screaming like this. The girl is an only child, and as far as she knows, there is nothing wrong with her.

She tries to extend an arm out to comfort her ma and tell her that she's right here, but it's as if she's completely paralyzed. Or better yet, like she's here but she doesn't actually know where here is because her body is nonexistent.

The light slowly takes its toll on her drawing her into its aura, and if she could move an arm, she'd reach out for it.

A sudden jolt surges through her body, shaking off whatever funk had managed to wrap its arms around her.

She can now see herself but not from the correct point of view. She's looking down on herself. Her limp body looks lifeless splayed across the stretcher.

They're in an ambulance, her, her ma, and at least two other paramedics. Maybe this is what limbo is like.

"Clear."

Another shock rolls through her body. Now she's back at her house. She's watching herself. There she is. Her body shaking convulsively on the hardwood floor.

In the background, she can hear the faint sound of "Somebody's Baby" by Jackson Browne playing on repeat.

She had finally let the demons, that for years had been circling intensely around her mind, consume her.

Lying next to her is a bottle of pills and bottle of alcohol, both empty. Years of pain snowballing on top of one another, there is only so much that someone can withstand before they crack. And any other night she might have gotten away with it.

Rain is a mysterious thing. It can be so beautiful at times, but others it can be so breathtakingly sad. Maybe it is the best of both which drew her to it so.

It is pouring outside. The sky would flicker and then a brief second later would rupture sending vibrations throughout the house.

Her pa slept like a rock under any circumstances, however, thunderstorms would always make her ma anxious. Her ma had woken up hours ago, trying but failing miserably to return to her fitful rest. Each pitter patter of the rain drops landing against the roof sounds like someone banging pots together. She counts each one as it hits. By the time she reaches 107, her eyelids become droopy once more. Another bang whirls through again, and she completely gives up, retiring to the kitchen downstairs.

Knowing that it is only another two hours until she normally gets up, she opens the pantry and takes two sleeping pills, praying they might actually work this time.

She grabs a blanket and curls into a little hunched up ball on the sofa. But God definitely isn't on her side tonight because another noise wakes her from her light slumber.

Her daughter.

Her daughter had been walking to the bathroom because she felt as if she might hurl, but halfway there she collapses eliciting a small thud against the wooden planks.

Next thing the daughter knows she's sitting in a hospital bed wearing all white. She can't seem to wrap her head around why she's here, and what the hell could have happened to have brought her here. That is until her ma comes nearly sprinting through the doorway.

"You're alright my dear."

And it hits her like a brick. And why does it hurt so much. She failed once more. She has always believed she was a practical human being. She should have planned this out way better. There was never supposed to be even the slightest prospect of not succeeding.

She was never supposed to witness the pain and destruction she would cause. And come to think of it, there were plenty of other options she could have chosen from that would have yielded higher success rates.

Her ma is smiling, but it doesn't fully reach her dim eyes. Her eyebrows are furrowed up in concern and dark, puffy bags circle beneath her sunken orbs. Her wrinkles are deeper than ever before. She is almost heartbreaking to look at.

A nurse enters with the daughter's charts in hand. In a sing-song voice she greets her.

"Good morning Regina Mills.

I hope you slept well."

Odd question, Regina figures but she lets it go. Her ma on the other hand, not so much.

"Slept well, you're kidding right?

She almost just died."

The tension in the room is palpable, and her ma's face hardens at the realization of this fucked up situation.

The nurse changes strategies. She places the clipboard at the foot of the bed and approaches Regina from the right.

"I'm going to start off with

checking for any vital signs of damage."

She grabs the stethoscope from around her neck, and Regina begins the ritual breathe in breathe out routine. After everything checks out, she motions for Regina's ma to follow her out into the hallway.

"There is no sign of any brain damage.

A doctor will be here to further assess

Regina and speak with you and Mr.

Mills as soon as possible."

They continue to chat hurriedly in hushed whispers. Is it even legal for them to withhold information from the patient? Technically Regina is an adult. But then again she can definitely see their side to the story.

She strains her ears but can't decipher any of their dialogue. Through the inner window, the doctor's face turns into a Picasso painting. His mouth is up where his forehead should be, and his eyes are all catawampus.

There was a time when Regina wanted to be a nurse or a doctor. Or maybe she only wished she wanted to be. Either way it seems out of the question now.

Her ma's loud shrill breaks her thoughts, probably for the best. The future tends to frighten her.

Another pair of footsteps come along, and then the deep rumbling voice of her pa is there to comfort Ma.

As Regina's eyes grow heavy, the melting clock on the wall tells her it's only 7:40 in the morning.

 _Outside on the chilly barren street, the hot pink neon sign promising coffee beckons Regina into the dimly lit café. Inside the place is quaint but the atmosphere is charged. Everyone is keeping to his or herself, busily at work. It's not until Regina is seated in the far back corner booth that she realizes she is able to recognize every single patron._

 _Louis Armstrong is playing the trumpet and with each blow a bouquet of flowers pops out onto the table._

 _Beethoven is writing a masterpiece where the notes are literally flowing off the sheets playing themselves._

 _Hemingway and Plath are both writing – and with each sentence the words are coming to life._

 _Van Gogh is painting an impressionistic portrait of Dali, and Dali is painting a portrait of van Gogh with Dali's famous mustache._

 _The whole atmosphere is so surreal but entirely calming. But with each passing second things get more out of hand and more bizarre._

 _Each of their creations turning on the defensive; what happens in their creations seems to counteract themselves._

 _First with little droplets of blood oozing from the side of the portrait of van Gogh's face before his ear completely falls off. There are two loud bangs and Hemingway and van Gogh drop lifeless to the tables. One with a gunshot to the head the other through the chest._

 _Even as he continues to blow on the trumpet, Louis Armstrong's face is contorted in pure agony, until he is left clawing at his chest._

 _Beethoven is in the midst of taking a sip of wine as he scribbles down a few more notes, when one note begins to choke him to death._

 _Plath is missing, only to be found in the kitchen with her head stuck in the oven._

 _As Dali watches with barren eyes as the events unfold, his heart can't take much more; he falls to the floor as lifeless as the rest of them._

"Ms. Mills! Regina, can you hear me?"

A husky voice causes her eyelids to flutter and a yelp to escape her quenched throat.

"It's okay. You were just having a bad dream."

Her deep raspy voice is enough to make Regina's heart race for an entirely different reason, and she'd rather nothing more than to hideout underneath the sheets until she disappears.

She's a beautiful woman, and one could only assume from what she is wearing that she is Regina's doctor, but under her sparkling gaze it's hard enough for Regina to remember her own name.

"Hello Ms. Mills, my name is Elsa,

and I will be taking care of you today."

She seems like a nice enough person, trying so hard to act like a friend instead of a complete stranger. One very good reason Regina could never be a doctor – her communication skills are severely lacking. Regina would much rather roll out of the room in a ball than sit through this upcoming discussion.

However, over the years Regina has gotten increasingly better at masking multiple disguises, as well. It is, if you would like to get out alive, something everyone must do, which looking upon current circumstances maybe she doesn't want that.

After being secluded from everyone else you have to learn to be on your own, in whatever way possible. Regina was an observer.

People absolutely fascinate her. She just doesn't seem to have the same effect on others. It's an odd feeling; everyone notices you yet no one really _notices_ you.

Back at high school Regina was a nobody. She had a few friends, but she never actually felt like she fit in with any of their groups. They would all go their own ways until they were alone, then they'd come crawling back to Regina.

She's a tad more interesting than watching paint dry. She was never anyone's favorite. Regina felt as if she was leftovers.

Her best friend was Brandy Tiphanie Scutt, who Regina, by the way, created the most fitting anagram for. It was almost as if her parents did it deliberately, but they don't have half a brain to be that creative.

Anyways, Regina secretly refers to her as Rude Pantystain Bitch. It may be a bit crass, but Regina knows she is flawed.

However, Brandy is one of the funniest people Regina knows. The only problem with the two of them is Regina didn't like her friends and they weren't exactly too fond of her either.

Regina was the quiet sidekick they got stuck with if they wanted to befriend Brandy. Truth be told, Regina most likely hated her anyways. Regina used people. Regina used Brandy to not feel like a total and complete outcast.

Sometimes she surprises her own self at her lack of empathy.

Their friendship didn't start that way though. In middle school they were both weird losers and it was childish fun. But each year Brandy would change and become more and more normal.

Evidently, Regina tried her best to tag along because she didn't want to be swallowed up whole in the social ladder.

Their main common interest had been their superior knowledge in refined literature. Only big difference was Regina was the shy one.

There's always that weird girl in every school – sits in the back corner of the class room. She prays to whatever higher deity that is out there that no one will try to talk to her. She is able to make every single encounter with her the most awkward experience.

That would be a great description of Regina.

The thing is, no one seems to realize how amazing that girl truly is. At least Regina figures she is. It's a bit narcissistic, but at the same time she completely and utterly hates herself.

Just a forewarning, she tends to hate excessively. It's the truest emotion she is capable of feeling.

The doctor brings her out of her long trance.

"So how are you feeling today?"

It's a dull question, much like all the conversations anyone ever seems to have. Of course she's only doing her job but seriously.

Regina feels as if she was just plowed down by a fucking eighteen-wheeler.

Whatever happened to the young child-like wonders when Regina had more friends than she could count on her fingers and conversations flew so freely and randomly.

How are you honestly supposed to answer that question when you previously tried to commit suicide?

 _Shitty._

But it's all about disguises once again.

"I feel fine."

Such an obvious lie but exposing her true feelings to others is not exactly one of Regina's strong suits.

The doctor's look gives Regina all the answer she needs to come to the conclusion that she doesn't buy into her cracked façade. However, she doesn't seem the least bit phased by the answer.

Regina is just another to add to the blurred crowd of faces, but the doctor's smile is warm and sympathetic almost.

She calls in Regina's parents and hands them a sheet of paper before walking out the door. No time for the damned.

Although Regina is perfectly capable of walking, the nurse insists on wheeling her out to the car where her parents are diligently waiting to help load her into the backseat.

"Be sure to take it easy the next

couple days, as you're bound to be

sore and tired. And get well soon."

The nurse gives one last half wave as Pa takes the wheel with Ma sitting next to him.

It wouldn't be surprising if they were to act like this never happened. They aren't delusional, but then again, they aren't very realistic either. They are all about setting out and being independent, yet they always try to protect Regina from everything. They are full of double standards, and needless to say, it leaves one confused child behind. It's damn near impossible to do anything right in their eyes.

"Sweetheart?"

She is waving her hand in front of Regina.

"Where were you just then?"

Regina was in her happy place – spaced out – where she can escape reality. It's not always better but at least it's not real and there is some sense of order amongst the chaos. It's sort of like her safe haven or her home away from home, if you will.

"Sorry I was just thinking."

"You can't do that to us, Regina."

"Think?"

"Now Cora, we agreed to save this

talk for when we get home."

He reaches over and encircles her forearm, rubbing soothing patterns against her skin. Little odd whimpers begin to escape the edges of her mouth.

Regina hates watching these affectionate acts. It all seems so unusual and foreign that it's fake to her eyes. Her brain is getting back at her abuse to it by deceiving her.

They are not the touchy feely type. Last time they probably kissed was years ago when Regina had dared them to, and even then it was sloppy and gross like they hadn't practiced in a while.

Their conversations are always the same – work and politics. Neither Regina nor Pa could care about the latter, but Ma was the mayor, so she would go on and on to where Regina would want to pull a gun to her head right then and there.

Pa waits until Regina's eyes lock with his in the rearview mirror.

"You know we love you right?"

Of course she does. Dumb question.

"Yeah."

"You can't do that to us."

It's always about them. Never mind how she might feel. Her lack of properly displaying emotions definitely resulted from their mistakes.

But it's like her ma has warned a thousand times before, it is not always their fault. Try never take the blame. Scientifically speaking they did give birth to Regina and raise her, so that leaves biological and most of the sociological aspects on their hands.

Clearly Regina gives them a hard time, but how else is she to relay some of this pent up guilt she feels towards herself at a life gone awry.

Cora turns around with tissue in hand.

"What were you thinking, Regina?"

This is hard.

"I guess I wasn't."

Lies. This had been carefully planned down to each meticulous detail – or so at least she thought.

If something or someone hurt her, she wrote it down so she wouldn't forget. Perhaps forgiveness would have saved both her parents and her a lot of unneeded agony, but years of pent up emotions had been at work for this. Now just another failure.

Something later, when the family gathers around dinner on the holidays at Grandma's, that everybody is going to try to avoid and forget. And then when they think Regina isn't looking, they might eye her with pity, but good God, the secret must always remain behind closed doors. Regina doesn't want or even deserve anyone's pity.

"Your doctor has recommended one of the

top rehabilitation facilities in the are for you."

They pull into the driveway.

"What?"

Regina's eyes widen in disbelief. Things like this do nothing to alleviate her stress.

"Cora, I thought we were going to

take it slow. You know the whole

immersion therapy idea."

He whispers the last part like Regina's not supposed to hear it.

"I don't want to live somewhere else."

Regina knows she sounds like a stubborn child who is not getting her way, but she just can't help it.

"It won't be forever. Think of it as a

vacation. You are always begging us

to take you far away."

"But it isn't far away, and it's going to be

the opposite of relaxing. Plus, it's

my second year of college, and I'm

going to miss all of it."

They are in the midst of unloading Regina out of the backseat like she is some fragile old archeologist find.

"Don't worry about that. You can

finish up college next

fall when you are all better again."

Regina knows now she's already pretty much screwed up her career. Why would her Ivy League college want her back now that they know she's broken. However, she is a stickler for routines and rituals. Surprises and new places frighten her.

"It will only be for two weeks, a

month tops."

For the rest of the day they continue to watch Regina like she is some deranged zoo animal. She's not allowed to close any doors behind her – not even in the bathroom – for fear of doing something stupid again.

It's understandable, she supposes, but those were her only pills and bottle of alcohol she possessed. Unless she is planning on wrapping the hose of the shower head around her neck, there isn't much she can do.

Then there's the other fact of her not wanting a sufferable death. A bottle of alcohol and pills to numb the pain and fall into a peaceful oblivion seemed the way to go.

She clearly didn't research correctly at all. Anything else would have been less painful than throwing up until all that was left was the painful dry heaving. Then the part where she was no longer in control of her convulsing body wasn't particularly thrilling either.

Movies falsely advertise the luxury of the whole experience. And being someone who enjoys rigorous planning and facts, she should have known better than to trust such a source.

The sound of drawers opening and closing wakes Regina. Her ma is stuffing handfuls of clothes into suitcases – forgoing folding.

"Ma, what are you doing?"

"Today is the day."

"What day?"

It had all seemed like one of those terrible nightmares you can't wake yourself up from. Regina's almost unsure if any of it happened.

"We are going into the city."

"What for?"

Her brain hurts too much for this early commotion. She rises to prop up against the pillows to look at the time. This bad decision of her muscles aching in rejection should have been enough of a clue to jog her memory.

The alarm clock blares back at her in bright red numbers – 12:02 p.m.

"To speak with your psychiatrist."

Regina's face muscles tense up, teeth slamming into one another all in the process of accidentally biting her tongue. She silently berates herself for her dumb antics.

The dull throbbing of her tongue and pounding of her head seem oddly fitting for the day to come. She embraces the pain, after all, Regina does, at the very least, deserve these small repercussions after what she has put her parents through.

"She will decide the severity of it all and

then what to do with you."

' _What to do with me.'_ That only sounds like Regina's a pain in the ass to have to deal with.

"Great."

At Regina's expense, she can suppress any pain through the use of sarcasm. It has been the only thing in her life to keep her from completely crumbling in on herself like a dying star. Up until recently, it had been working. It's all she has ever known as a coping mechanism.

"We are going to get you all the help you

need to make you whole again."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

 _Afghanistan. Albania. Algeria. Andorra._

Regina begins listing off countries alphabetically in her head as a calming mechanism. She was bored one day and learned all the countries, and now it works wonders to help alleviate unwarranted anxiety.

No matter how much you try to piece back and glue a shattered mirror, the cracks will always be visible. Regina's heart relates very much to that statement. She will never be whole.

Nothing she could say would change her ma's mind about this. And honestly, why would it? They almost lost their only child. Regina had been a miracle. After years of trying to have a baby and seeking out help from doctor after doctor, her parents had almost given up hope when her ma had the third miscarriage. But when month after month continued to pass by with little to no complications, their hope began to steadily increase with it.

And now here Regina is, alive and breathing.

The city is not far away, forty minutes at the most. They live in a suburb of Maine called Storybrooke. It's very conservative, and everyone seems to have their heads stuck up their butts. Reason number one for Regina's suicide attempt.

"Your father is waiting out in the car.

Go hop in while I get the rest of your

things."

Regina is planning on listening to her music on the ride there to somewhat tame her nerves, but her ma said only depressed kids do that.

"I was researching all last night

and I found this interesting article

about teens spending too much time

to themselves, when they should be

conversing with other peers, the

ultimate remedy."

Perhaps that is true, but conversation doesn't flow that easily for Regina. She usually winds up looking like a bumbling idiot. It's truly a lost cause for her.

"I know you're shy, but you just

have to get out there."

"Wow Ma, I have never thought

of that before. I have been

enlightened."

Now Regina's pa, Henry, decides to join in, always defending her righteous side.

"This is not the time for your sarcastic

remarks. I don't know where we failed

as parents with you."

How dare Regina ever be the damn damsel in distress. She mentally pats herself on the back at the alliteration. Unaware, a smug grin sneaking its way onto her face.

"You think this is funny?"

But seriously, this guy is always backing her ma up, no matter how wrong she is, no matter the circumstances. He could have only just entered the room and say she was right. For once it would be appreciated if Regina's side was, at the least, acknowledged.

Ten minutes away from the city and her ma begins again more chipper than earlier.

"This will be great for you. No

Internet. No cellphone. Just time for

you to reflect on your actions."

Ignoring that last jab, Regina begins her futile attempt at diversion.

"Yeah with people who are most

certainly crazier than me. I won't

be surprised if I'm not dead within

a week after one of the schizoids

goes on a killing rampage while

she's having her delusional meltdown."

"Young lady, I will not hear of that

kind of talk."

"If not that, I am bound to be more

insane than I already am after

being exposed to the loonies."

Now she's saying anything to make them turn the car around. She's highly certain mental hospitals were another concept that's largely over-exaggerated in movies. But she needs routine; she craves routine. Regina hates herself for it, but it's the truth.

"Regina Mills?"

Shit, she can't do this. Regina feels like having one of her panic attacks, but she saves those for in private, at least for the most part.

"Regina Mills?"

"They are calling your name,

go up there."

"Sweetie, do you need one of us

to come with you?"

She so very much does, but if this psychiatrist bullshit is supposed to work, she's definitely not opening up about her emotions and feelings in front of either of them. Not to mention that would be both pathetic and humiliating.

"No I'm fine."

There's the slightest of quiver in her voice causing it to crack.

The plaque on the door reads 'Dr. Whale: Sandy Shores Psychiatrist.'

The nurse knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Fuck. Fucking hell. Regina's not one of those people who think psychiatrists are a waste of time, quite the opposite actually. She knows that like any other organ in the body, the brain can become ill as well. However, she has one of those people who thinks it can never happen to her attitude.

"You must be Regina Mills. Have a seat."

She motions Regina towards the empty chair in the corner.

"Hi Regina, I'm Dr. Whale."

Dr. Whale's hand is outstretched waiting for hers. Regina can feel a bead of sweat trickle down between her shoulder blades. Suddenly, she has cotton mouth, and as discretely as possible, she slides a clammy palm against the denim of her jeans before accepting contact. She barely manages to choke out a reply of her own.

"Um… hey."

Dr. Whale doesn't seem to be fazed by her antics.

"I was reading over your chart, and it

states you have previously never

visited a psychiatrist or sought

out any medical assistance

before. Is that correct?"

It's ironic how Regina would need to be hopped up on anti-anxiety pills before going to speak to a doctor about her anxiety.

"Yes."

Regina's doing that annoying thing with her hands where she's squeezing fingers and palms together repeatedly. Clasping and unclasping. It's taking a lot of self-control for her to not pop her fingers. Yet somehow, Dr. Whale still notices. Her eyes drop down to Regina's fidgeting hands, so she has to force herself to release their vice grip.

Dr. Whale is a very attractive lady. The thought alone causes a new wave of nerves to course through Regina's body and a tight lipped grin to coil onto her face. She is positive God is mocking her from up above.

"Are you nervous? I can assume

it was not your idea to come her."

"Nope, it was my parents, or maybe

the doctors. I don't know."

Regina thinks back trying to recall if signed any paperwork. Legally, she would have to give consent. Maybe she was no longer deemed fit to take care of herself.

Now Regina starts pinching the side of her leg. It's on the side Dr. Whale can't see. She has to do something with her hands or else they feel dead in her lap.

"I could tell you not to be nervous,

but you have every right to be.

This is all new for you, and you

Might not trust me yet, but I

do want what is best for you.

I want to help."

It sounds sincere but Regina knows she is just another patient out of the hundreds she has had.

Dr. Whale won't let go of eye contact, which leads to Regina feeling all the more uncomfortable. She breaks it to look out the window. They are only two floors up, probably not enough to kill her if she jumped, but at least it would get her out of this miserable place and away from those piercing blue eyes.

"Regina?"

She brings Regina back to meet her intense glare.

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

The answer is out of Regina's mouth without a thought. Purely habit. It's not the answer Dr. Whale is looking for, but there is no way Regina plans to tell her anything. She couldn't even if she wanted to.

"Your parents tell me you daydream

often. Were you doing that just then?"

Aren't daydreams supposed to be happy thoughts?

"I guess so."

"Do you want to tell me what about?"

Regina switches back to staring out the window.

"Regina I am here to help you, but I

am of no use if you don't try to

communicate with me."

After a long awkward pause, she finally clears are throat and stands up.

"We will start up again tomorrow

around 2 p.m. I will start you on a

light dosage of an antidepressant.

And I hope you enjoy your stay here

at Sandy Shores."

Dr. Whale presses a few buttons on the phone placed on her desk.

"Hi, can I have one of the staff

come down to escort a new patient

around?"

A few seconds later there's a knock and then a big, muscular man entering. They have to have someone capable of tackling the crazies when they start fighting about one of them sitting on one's imaginary friend.

"You're Regina? I thought the new

patient was a boy."

She has to squeeze past his chiseled frame to get out of the door.

"Sorry, you are definitely not a boy."

He gives Regina a quick one-over and nods in approval with his assessment. Although it's not meant to be seductive or anything resembling, it still puts her on edge. He reads her thoughts almost immediately.

"Don't worry, you're not my type."

Now Regina doesn't know if she should be offended or thankful.

He leads her down one of the lengthy corridors until they reach a desk.

"Hey Granny, checking in the new girl."

"Oh yes, this must be Ms. Mills. Your

parents have already stopped by

and dropped your things off."

She steps from behind the counter dragging my lone suitcase.

"My name is Ms. Lucas, but everyone

here calls me Granny."

"Did my parents already leave?"

The stubby woman frowns looking at muscle man first.

"Thanks Robin. I got it from here."

She begins waddling down a new hallway. For a woman of her size it's impressive how fast she walks. Regina has to double her stride to keep up.

"Yes dear, but don't worry. I'm sure

they will be here Saturday on visiting

day."

It's not that Regina is upset, just a little disappointed they wouldn't want to say good-bye first.

They stop at the door second to the end.

"Number 202 is your room, and the bathroom

is down the hall on the left, however, you

aren't allowed to use it at night. Each morning

and night at eight a nurse will drop by to

bring you your medicine, which you will have

to consume. And you will have to attend every

meal, private and group therapy, and free time.

We will be keeping role; we will also be watching

you carefully to judge the severity of your

case along with the right help we will need to

implement for you. You are now under our

roof, which means you are our responsibility."

In the room there are two beds about three feet apart. Besides a wardrobe opposite the beds and nightstand between the beds, there isn't any other furniture. The walls are white with no pictures hanging from them. It looks so bland and dreary. They might as well have plastered yellow wallpaper instead to drive Regina to insanity.

By the looks of it, someone has already claimed the bed by the window, but Granny doesn't mention it.

Granny turns to leave, calling over her shoulder.

"Right now, everyone is at supper, so you can

set your things down and we will go to

the mess hall. There will be plenty of time

for you to unpack later."

They make their way back up the hallway, with Regina once again chasing after her large, waddling frame, and then they take a right into the cafeteria.

There are five long tables evenly spaced across the center of the room, two of which are being occupied by girls. The one in the middle must be the dividing line for the staff members. The two furthest from the entryway are filled with boys.

Noticing Regina's sight of vision, Granny pipes up.

"This along with recreation time is the

only time girls are allowed with boys,

so make the most of it."

She winks and then points a chubby finger at one guy who is sat next to two others. He has dark brown hair and way too much eyeliner to be a guy. He is quite pleasing to the eye aesthetically speaking.

He has his fork up with spaghetti on it; his finger rearing it back ready to aim at one of his friends.

"That one's name is Killian. I think you

two would be cute together. Not that I

am implying anything because any

sexual activity is strictly forbidden, but

I know what some of these people

get up to. They think they're sneaky but

I'm not dumb nor blind."

Something else catches Regina's eye, or rather someone, during her speech. Seated in the back corner of the room alone is a dirty blonde girl with her nose buried in a book. She's oddly familiar. Perhaps Regina has dreamt of her before but that idea is absurd and completely implausible.

The rest of the girls at her table are sitting at the opposite end, huddled up, talking and laughing with one another.

Maybe this whole predicament Regina has gotten herself into won't be an entire waste of time. Not with a face like that for her to sneak glances at. Plus, there are plenty of other recluses around, so she fits in as an outcast, all the while silently marveling at the stranger's beauty.

No one seems to notice Granny and Regina, until Granny deliberately clears her throat for what seems like a good minute or so, causing all eyes except the blonde's to drift up towards the two of them.

Regina can feel her cheeks reddening at the unwarranted attention, but Granny ignores her, turning to head to the café line, motioning for Regina to follow.

"Lucky for you coming on spaghetti day.

Probably the only good meal they make."

Granny lowers her voice at the last part as to not offend the woman on the other side, who is busy scooping a watery lump from the large mound onto a paper tray.

Regina read somewhere about hospital cafeteria food being unsanitary, but she has a strong stomach so she's not complaining.

After she finishes loading her tray, Granny leads her back to the group of girls.

"I would like to introduce you all to

the newest member."

She places a hand on Regina's upper back, gently pushing her forward.

"This is Regina. I'm sure she will fit in

perfectly with all of you."

One of the girls flashes a quick crooked-toothed grin exposing filmy, yellow teeth.

"And this is Harper, Belle, Ruby and Mary Margaret.

The four of them are always together.

I figure it will be easier for you to adjust here

if you make some friends, that way this place

won't be so lonely."

Granny points to the other table next to us.

"The rest of them don't talk much or

prefer to be left alone."

And with those final words, she is turning on her heels, headed back into the hallway from which they came, leaving Regina stranded. She is standing awkwardly next to the group, inwardly debating whether she should sit with the odd group of 'friends' or stick to what she knows and be a loner like the rest.

But before she can decide, the girl named Mary Margaret tugs at her arm.

"Come sit next to me."

Mary Margaret inches over closer to the girl named Harper and pats the wooden bench next to her. Right away Regina can tell she's the leader of their little group.

Regina can also tell this was the type of girl she tried to avoid at all cost throughout high school.

Before she is fully seated. Mary Margaret is already telling them about some guy she fucked last night in the boy's bathroom. Midway through her sentence about being bent over the toilet, Ruby interrupts.

"So what's wrong with you?"

She is staring directly at Regina, sort of; one of her eyes is lazy, but before Regina can answer Harper leans over to have a quick look.

"That's an easy one to guess,

depression, like most people in here."

Regina isn't sure what to say or do, so she stares down at her food trying to feign as if she is uninterested.

Harper is half right, she supposes. Regina is quite positive she has depression, but it's more of an underlying issue.

Harper begins talking again. First pointing a finger at the girl across from her.

"Ruby is here because of substance

abuse. Not too hard to figure out."

She moves her finger up and down at the girl like her appearance is supposed to be a dead giveaway. But at second glance, she does look like a typical drug addict from all those television shows. Her hair is completely tangled. She is abnormally skinny. And that would also explain those yellow teeth.

"She was found passed out in an alleyway

from a stab to the stomach."

Regina looks over at the black-haired girl of topic. She's already looking at Regina, flashing another snaggletooth grin like this is something to be proud of before she begins speaking. Her voice raspy.

"I had just finished sucking this guy's

dick for some crystal, but he only

wanted money. It wasn't until after

he came all over my face that he

decided to tell me. When I couldn't

pay him, he stabbed me."

She stands, pulling her shirt up exposing a nasty two-inch scar. Once again she smiles, revealing her must be creepy signature grin.

Harper snatches Mary Margaret's hands from underneath the table, splaying them palm up. She begins to push up the sleeves of the pixie cut brunette's wrists revealing a bunch of tiny, white slit marks.

"And this one here has your depression

problem. There seems to be a lot

of that going around, which personally,

I don't understand. White people am

I right?"

She's white herself, so it's not really a fair assumption, but Harper goes on nudging the side of Mary Margaret.

"Tell her your story."

As if this isn't the least bit of a private conversation telling such an intimate story, Mary Margaret begins sharing her experience.

"Alright, so like I was a senior in high

school, and like my boyfriend was the

quarterback. I was the

most popular girl in school, and

like everybody wanted to be me or

be on me. But I had a boyfriend,

and I wasn't one of those cheating sluts.

I was faithful and stuff. But at one of the

parties I caught him fucking my best

friend in my bed. So I mean I'm obviously

depressed because of it."

Regina can't help the words that slip from her mouth, all the while biting the inside of her cheek trying to stifle a grin.

"Isn't that pretty much the plot to all those

terrible teenage romantic comedies?"

The girl, Belle, who hasn't said a word the entire time, briefly takes her nails from her mouth to let out a quick snort before quickly looking back down when she is met by an icy stare from Mary Margaret.

"Well you should hear Belle's story then,

oh wait you can't because she never

fucking talks."

Mary Margaret yells this at the girl, who looks like she is about to cry. Every set of eyes are now watching the group.

Regina glances to her left landing on the most intense emerald eyes, eyebrow quirked in challenge, daring her to be the first to give in, which she does, returning to the conversation at hand.

However, Regina's curiosity is piqued, so she steals one more peek, but the eyes have returned to the pages of the book.

"I bet you an ounce of meth you can't guess

what Harper's disorder is."

"That's a terrible deal… um schizophrenia?"

This brings out a chuckle from the four of them, Belle included.

"She's bulimic."

The girl is nearly 200 pounds, so Regina figures they are messing with her. Hell, she had eaten everything on her tray, and when she noticed Regina wasn't eating her food, she had taken it for herself.

But before Regina can discern if they are teasing her, two staff members walk through. Regina recognizes one of them to be Robin, who is followed by a taller lanky guy.

"Clear out everyone and head back

to your rooms."

Everyone hurriedly rushes to put their trays away with Regina following close behind. The girl who had spiked Regina's interest has already vanished.

Mary Margaret and the other three have already moved on to another story. Harper jumps in gossiping about one of the other patients.

The four of them seem very juvenile, yet somehow they are still entertaining.

Robin passes by, completely ignoring their group, headed back to the nursing station. Harper nudges playfully at Mary Margaret, eliciting a growl.

"I told you I'm not interested in him

anymore. He is like way too big and

muscular. He probably has like a two-inch

dick. Eight is like my bare minimum."

Regina grimaces thankful all of them head into different rooms from hers. She makes her way to room 202, padding along the infinite corridors, shuffling to avoid other patients including any unwanted eye contact. Which for the most part is inconsequential, since her mind is too busy absorbing all this new information she has acquired in such a short span of time.

It sucks because she has practically been forced into being this shiny new toy for everyone. Every time a new student transferred to her high school, she conjured up scenarios where they would be best friends with one another. It never followed through as planned, luckily, because it was usually a big dumb brute with too much acne and body hair.

Here everyone has already gotten the chance to know one another, making her feel on display. Regina feels like there is too much pressure on her even though she already knows she'll only let down their expectations on whatever scenario each one of them has formed.

When Regina reaches her room, she notices her roommate is still not back yet. It's odd that nobody has mentioned her to Regina.

She had been sucked into her thoughts for around thirty minutes, when a creaking sound causes her to jump up from her bed with a scared shrill and a dumb look of utter shock most likely plastered across her face.

The blonde of her recent thoughts emerges gracefully from the window.

"Fucking hell, could you try to be

any louder?"

Regina's mouth goes dry from the sight. She is way more beautiful than she gave her credit for earlier in the cafeteria.

Her light blonde hair is tied in a messy ponytail. She is wearing a pair of faded black skinny jeans with a white V-neck and black Doc Martens. Her maroon sweatshirt from earlier is tied around her waist, hugging her slender frame. Her toned arms are now exposed, revealing several tattoos.

After realizing Regina wasn't planning or possibly even capable of saying anything, she begins speaking, her voice raspier than most girls.

"Didn't your mom teach you not

to stare at others?"

It's meant to be harsh sounding, yet somehow there's still a flicker deep within her eyes.

Regina licks her suddenly chapped lips trying to regain at least an ounce of self-control to form a reply.

"I wasn't… I'm sorry, you scared me."

It's the best reply Regina could have hoped for in her current state of turmoil.

"Clearly."

She looks Regina up and down like she's sizing her up. Regina can feel all the blood rushing to her face. She can only imagine that she looks like a walking tomato right now.

Before the conversation, or lack thereof, can go on, Robin enters holding a cup of water and small plastic container that has a single pill in it. The open door seems to fan out some of the tension built up in the room.

He hands it to Regina instructing her to take it, and she does as she is told. Swallowing dutifully and handing back the container before he walks back out.

When Regina turns back around, the blonde girl is gone once more.

The bed next to hers has been empty for the past few hours. Regina wonders where the blonde continues to sneak off to. Sleep isn't coming to her anytime soon. Her sheets have long since matted up around her ankles from her restless tossing.

A breeze against Regina's back alerts her to the window opening. She turns onto her back to see a shadowy figure hop under the sheets of the bed next to hers.

After what feels like another few hours of Regina staring at the ceiling, sleep evading her, the girl in the other bed shifts sitting up.

"I don't think we've been properly

introduced. Hi, I'm Emma."

 _Emma._ That name is somewhat familiar.

Regina takes her hand, feeling the rugged contrast compared to her more smooth hand. It is enough to start the formation of beads of sweat to form in the creases of her palm, so she hastily withdraws, already missing the warm sensations.

"Normally this is where the other

person would, oh I don't know,

introduce themselves, but

I mean it's whatever. There

Is not much normal here to begin

with anyways."

"Oh, I – I hadn't realized… My name is Regina."

" _Regina._ I like it."

Something about the way she says Regina's name is enthralling. Thankfully it's too dark for Emma to see the blush flooding Regina's face and neck. It's embarrassing how such a miniscule thing can do this to her.

Lying back down, Regina embraces the cool cotton of her pillow. Her hair fanned out around her. A small smile tugs at her lips.

The only hint of light shines between the blinds; the small pale shimmer dancing beautifully over the outline of Emma's face. Regina watches as the sheets pool around her waist then the pitter-patter sound of feet followed by a light breeze that hits her neck, sending a refreshing chill down her spine.

Emma chases after the crescent shape in the sky. Her shadow scampering out of sight back from where it came.

The girl has excellent style. She's easy on the eyes. And she seems to have a welcoming, warming personality towards Regina. She checks off on every characteristic Regina looks for in a friend, no matter how superficial two of the aforementioned are. She doesn't have much of a baseline yet, she just met the girl.

The sound of someone entering wakes Regina.

"Have they checked rooms yet?"

Regina's sleep-deprived mind is having trouble figuring out where she is.

"Um no, I don't guess so."

Emma sits down on the bed staring at Regina. Under her gaze, Regina racks her brain for a good topic.

"So… aren't the windows supposed to

be locked at psych wards?"

She cringes at the topic she has settled on.

"Yeah ours is broken though."

"Where'd you go last night?"

"That is none of your concern. I'm

going to the bathroom if they come."

The door shuts leaving Regina alone again.

"Bitch."

Granny enters with a cup and a plastic container.

"Who are you talking to, dear?"

"Nobody."

"Well, here's your medicine."

She waits for Regina to take the pill under her watchful eyes. Emma reemerges, side-stepping around the pudgy woman. She props herself on the bed watching until Granny exits.

"So what do we do now?"

"I guess whatever the fuck you

want to. Nobody has control over you.

I'm going to the courtyard to read."

Emma is cryptic. She is icy and hot at the same time. Usually Regina doesn't follow around someone if she is not a hundred percent certain her presence is welcomed. She likes to be invited along, but under the circumstances, she is willing to make a few changes.

Regina chases after her in the hallway.

"I don't know anything about this

place, like where we have access

or our schedule. Can't you help

me out?"

"I could, I just choose not to. Go

ask one of your friends."

"What friends?"

"Mary Margaret and Harper."

They aren't exactly Regina's friends. Their humor is in poor taste.

"I don't think I'd like them even if I

did know them."

The humor rolls across Emma's face until it crinkles at her eyes. She's having fun torturing Regina. Somehow, though, it doesn't feel as mean as the kids back in high school.

Her dark eyes drag from the tips of Regina's toes slowly, painfully up her frame until she connects emerald to brown. Her lip twitches up on one side.

"And why is that?"

Regina squirms, shifting her pressure from one foot to the other.

"I don't know."

In a nervous fashion, Regina scuffs the bottom of her foot against the tile floor.

"Never mind, forget I asked for

your help."

Regina turns to head back in the room. She can feel the oh so familiar pain aching through her chest. She hardly ever asks for help and that is the exact reason why. Regina sucks with rejection.

That being said she has all the intent to follow Emma once she gets far enough down the hall.

A loud moan comes from behind, then someone tugging on Regina's forearm.

"Did anyone ever teach you what

sarcasm is? Please tell me you aren't

always this uptight."

The sting of tears threatening to fall subsides as she pulls Regina along. For what feels like miles, Regina can pinpoint the warmth of each of her fingertips that is radiating off her skin as they exit a set of double doors.

"Normally they give all the patients

a tour of the facility."

"Guess they knew you'd be

nice enough to do the honors."

Regina is glad a little bit of her banter seems to be inside her still.

Emma gives her a sideways glance and a small smile doesn't escape Regina's peripheral.

"Here is the courtyard, where we will

spend the next two hours. Then at

ten, we have group therapy, then

lunch, then free time for another

two hours, unless you have your

therapy on Tuesdays and Thursdays,

then supper, then another hour of free

time then bed. And that is pretty

much all you have to look forward

to for the unforeseeable future."

"What are we supposed to do during

free time?"

"They like us to do something productive

such as arts and crafts, exercise and read."

In the background, Mary Margaret calls out.

"Hey Regina come over here with us."

"Or you can spend your time

talking about sex and gossip."

Emma retreats to the far side of the courtyard by an old oak tree.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The four other girls – Mary Margaret, Harper, Ruby, and Belle – approach Regina. Regina looks over to already see Emma sprawled out under the shade of the large tree, engrossed in the pages of her book, completely oblivious to the rest of the world.

Mary Margaret practically drags Regina to two benches facing one another in the center of the courtyard.

"So where did we leave off earlier, oh yeah

it like literally took him thirty minutes to

ejaculate. I mean my hands and knees

were cramping and getting so sore."

Regina scrunches up her nose. These are not her friends, and she will be damned if they become her friends.

She's not open to hearing about all their kinky rendezvous. She doesn't want to be dragged into their posy.

There is a girl not too far away who seems nice, even underneath all her sarcastic remarks. That is who Regina wants to befriend. Hell, anyone here would most likely beat these four.

"That is because Killian likes his women

thick. It only took me five minutes."

Regina cringes at the mental picture of Harper giving Killian a handjob. In a desperate attempt to get away, Regina mumbles out some lame excuse about needing to go somewhere secluded because she has a headache.

She spins to turn around bumping straight into previous said guy and his two friends.

"Whoa new territory."

Killian turns to his friend on the left who just spoke, playfully slapping his chest.

"Jeremy, this fresh meat is not land

for you to claim."

The guy to his right joins in eyeing Regina up.

"I bet I can have her screaming my name

before both of you."

Regina has never received such straight-forward blatant attention in this sense. It's uncomfortable and insulting, but still Regina can't help thinking this is what it must be like to be the hot new girl. Not that she is calling herself hot per se, but she does have eyes. Regina prefers to think of herself as being unattractively attractive.

They slap hands together to seal the bet, all the while the four girls fill around Regina's sides. Ruby punches the arm of the last guy who spoke.

"No you will not Graham. You're mine."

He winces at the pain and ducks his head trying his best to withhold the blush.

Mary Margaret bats her eyelashes a good dozen times and gives Regina a forced smile that screams 'what the fuck do you think you are trying to do.'

Regina automatically retreats like a coward once again mumbling her earlier excuse a little louder before walking off.

Her footsteps lead her to an oak tree, where Regina finds a grinning Emma hiding a smile as best she can behind the small book. Regina gently kicks at her foot.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, just got to a funny part

of my book."

"You're reading 'Angela's Ashes.'"

She quirks a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Regina.

"You've read it before?"

"Sadly yes, in 10th grade. Now answer

my question; I saw you."

Regina nudges at her foot a little harder for good measure when Emma doesn't seem like she's going to respond.

"Oh you know just watching you look

like you're in pure torture dealing

with them idiots over there."

She laughs again.

"It's not funny. I hate people like that."

Regina finds herself taking a seat next to Emma, unusually feeling very at ease with her. She picks at some woodchips nearby not knowing where to steer the conversation now.

"And what kind of people would that be?"

"I don't know."

Emma remains staring at Regina, expectantly waiting for better clarification that she knows is to come.

"Like how they talk about people as if they are

objects they can gain and all the gross sexual

stories I could go forever without knowing

about."

The two sit in quiet for a few seconds before Regina continues.

"They make me feel like love doesn't exist,

and it's just some abstract concept the

pathetic ones make up to fill their

empty voids… I don't know. It's stupid.

I guess I don't fit in with anyone."

After a minute of no response, Regina shifts uncomfortably, wondering if she gave one of the stupidest answers. It wouldn't be anything out of the norm.

She steals a secretive glance to the side to gauge Emma's reaction. Once again, the pages of her book hide a grin that is quick to spread across her features.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're making fun of me."

Emma brings her knees up resting her book against her chest taking her time replying.

"No, I swear I'm not. I liked your answer.

You're a hopeless romantic. It's very cute."

Regina looks away, unable to hold eye contact. She knows her cheeks are on fire, so she looks for something to distract her.

She watches off in the distance Mary Margaret trying to get Killian's attention as he throws woodchips down Harper's shirt.

Emma's voice shifts Regina back to her gaze. She folds down one of the pages and closes the book.

"You're right about the book being

shit, but it's on my bucket list of

classic novels to read. It's way too

morbid, especially while trapped in a

place like this."

Emma sets the book of to the side, leaning a tad closer to Regina in the process.

"I'd rather learn more about you.

Let's see, from what I've gathered so far,

is you don't seem very confident in what

you say, like you're scared someone is going

to judge you. Because I mean if we're being

completely honest, they are, but if it's anything

negative, fuck them. You don't need that type

of shit in your life."

"You may work better than my therapist."

A light chuckle escapes her lips.

"No but seriously, you really don't need

that. Take it from someone who has

been there as well. My guess is people

have hurt you. What I've learned is nearly

everyone I meet will never reach half my

expectations of them. But I've learned to

to lower the bar a little but to never settle

because like everything, there're always

surprises. You just have to learn who is

worth your time."

Before Regina can reply, a nurse is at the doors calling us in.

"All girls meet in the recreation room in

five minutes for group therapy."

"I suppose you're going to want me

to show you where the rec. room is also."

Emma lets out an exaggerated huff and stands to her feet. Regina almost thinks she is annoyed until she turns around with the ghost of a smile and an extended hand to help her up.

"First time group therapies are

always the best."

"How come?"

Noticing Regina's frightened expression, Emma rubs a quick thumb over her knuckles before releasing their hands.

"Nothing too terrible. They'll want

you to introduce yourself, but I find

it entertaining to listen to other

people's problems. Not because

I enjoy them suffering, but sometimes

it's nice being able to connect with

someone or hearing they have it

worse than me."

The two approach a large room with a TV and couches on the far side next to a couple of cabinets. In the center are several foldout chairs placed in a circle.

Emma leads them to the two seats furthest from the door. An elderly man, probably close to approaching his sixties, hobbles to the final chair. He has salt and pepper hair with big, brown bug-eyed glasses covering his kind eyes.

"Good morning to you all. Who is wiling

to share with the group today – ah – I

see we have a new face. What is your

name young lady?"

Everybody turns to Regina, their eyes burning her flesh. She swears she can feel her skin dripping off her body into a puddle beneath her chair.

"Regina… Regina Mills."

Under the microscope of all their watchful eyes, Regina almost forgets something as simple as her own name.

"Ah, Miss Mills, is there anything you

would like to share with us today?"

"Not really."

"All in due time I suppose."

Regina leans back in the hard chair, looking for comfort. She's burning a hole in the floor with the glare she's giving. She's trying her best to regain her breathing back to normal when Emma leans over to whisper in her ear.

"Just relax. Mr. Michaels is cool."

The tension among Regina's neck and shoulders dissipates almost immediately. Whether it's the reassuring comfort or the close proximity and lull of Emma's voice, Regina is unsure.

A pimply-faced ginger stands to begin a long story of her own.

"Hey my name is Marian, for those

of you who don't know. I'm 21 and was

diagnosed with schizophrenia when I

was 13. But all that bullshit people seem

to associate with us is not always true.

I'm completely fine, unlike her."

Marian jabs her finger at the older, black woman sitting next to her. Out of everyone here, she is one of the few who actually look insane. Her and the girl sitting to Regina's other side with her long, raven hair covering her pale face.

"Marian, I've told you before no cussing

and no more being mean to Cora."

"What? She knows I'm only messing

with her. We're friends. She's the

only one I actually like out of y'all.

Anyways, the real reason I'm here is

because I did do something terrible

but I had a good reason. Back in middle

school and high school everyone bullied

me, even some of the teachers joined in.

I failed both seventh and eighth grades from

missing too many school days because I

didn't want people making fun of me. My

parents didn't know about any of it, and I

have never wanted to tell them. They were

workaholics and growing up I had over 13

nannies. Each one of them quit after only

staying for a few months. They all told my

parents there was something wrong with

me. But my parents loved me although they

were never actually there, so they never

believed any of them that there could be

anything wrong with their precious baby

girl. It first started off with small things

like my hair color. I don't mind people

calling me ginger or carrot top. That no

longer fazes me, but after a while, other

kids would shove me while they called

me these names. Then one day a teacher

called me out for doodling in a textbook

and all the other kids thought it was funny,

so when I got upset she joined in on teasing

me and then sent me to the principal's

office. I mean I thought teachers were

supposed to be there to protect the

students not join in with all the stupid

name calling. I got my revenge though.

At the end of my senior year I brought

a knife to school. I stabbed one of those

fuckers in the stomach before the police

could stop me, and damn it felt good."

"Language... please."

"Sorry. I know it was wrong, but no one

else was there for to offer protection, so

I found it the only way I knew how. I was

sent to juvenile detention and forced to meet

with a physiatrist three times a week. During

that time they discovered I was a schizoid, so

instead of being locked up there, I'm now

locked up here instead. But I don't have

hallucinations or anything. I can't complain

though, I now get more attention from my

parents over the past few years than in

my entire life."

"Thanks for sharing that with us Marian.

Does anyone else want to speak today?"

An Indian woman clad in a hot pink hijab but normal clothes raises her hand.


End file.
